Helga the Enigma
by chinyemagne
Summary: An Arnold/Helga fic. Towards the end of the fourth grade school year, Arnold begins to put two and two together, and discovers feelings he can't explain...or deny. R&R!


Standardized Disclaimer: I, Chinyere, under my pen name, Chinyemagne, hereby acknowledge that I do not own Hey Arnold! nor the characters that are referenced within, nor am I a hired writer with permission to use their names on this site. However, there is a likelihood that original characters will be created and portrayed within this text. Thank you.

Helga the Enigma

Helga likes to watch Court TV. I remember, because when we first fixed up Gerald Field, she told me so. Well, she sorta told me---it was more like one of her indirect threats. Anyway, she must've watched a lot of Court TV, because when we did our court simulation in Mr. Simmons' class, she went all out for the part. I was horrified when she walked in the room. For some reason, she looked more intimidating than ever. She had on this black dress suit and black dressy shoes, and she just had one ponytail tied to the back of her head, or maybe to the side. I don't know, something about that hairdo looked kind of familiar to me.

"Hey _Football Head_," she jeered at me when she sat down in the seat across from me. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." This wasn't new; I'd definitely heard that one many times before.

I snapped out of it before she said anything else to me. "Well, I'm sorry Helga…I guess I'm just daydreaming again, that's all."

She rolled her eyes at me as she crossed her legs and unfolded a briefcase on top of them. "Well _bucko_, you'd better get your head out of the clouds if you want the prosecution to mercy you…a little," Helga growled, leaning closer to me before throwing a glance at Harold. "Yeah, Harold's going down!"

I looked at Harold, who at this point was only halfway caring about what we were doing in class. "Don't worry Harold, we'll get this case won…maybe." I myself was beginning to doubt. In the past few days, Helga had made a good case for the "state," even though her charge was kinda sketch. In the case we were modeling, anyway, the defense won. But, I wasn't so sure the same would be for us.

"Hey Arnold," Harold interrupted my train of thought. "If I just confessed now, would this whole stupid thing be over with quicker?"

"What, no Harold! You already pled not guilty, and as the case follows, you actually aren't guilty. Don't you want to defend yourself?" I tried to convince him, but it's hard to get Harold enthusiastic about anything. I can't remember what he said to me, because I fell into it again. Thought, that is.

You know, when I first started this project, I really dreaded it. I could just see myself as open prey as the defense attorney against Helga the Prosecutor. I could see her, berating me with a series of "Football Heads" or "Hair Boys" or something like that, all the while catapulting spit balls at my head. But, then again, it wasn't like it was all dread. I don't know what else it was…weird. I always get a weird feeling around Helga, like she's being ambiguous or something. I never know what to think about her, and I never know what to expect. It's startling. On the one hand, I didn't want to be put up against Helga, but at the same time I was interested to see what she was actually going to do.

"Hey Arnold, you're witness," she said to me while passing my seat. I looked up to see that my next witness was none other than Lila. I could almost feel Helga glaring spitefully at the back of my neck. For a long time, I was almost sure that Helga hated me, and I'd heard what her and the girls had done to Lila, so I was convinced she disliked her, too. I wondered if there was anyone, besides Phoebe, that Helga really liked. It was hard to tell, but I know there must be.

I fumbled with my papers with my questions on them to try to find Lila's set. Lila was a key witness in the case, and also our last hope for proving Harold's innocence. Normally, I wouldn't get into something like this simulation so much, but when against Helga, the whole situation got competitive. I guess that was just her nature…sometimes. "Okay Lila, I just have a few questions for you. Do you think you'll be able to answer them for me?" I began.

Lila clasped her hands together. "Well Arnold, I do believe I already swore 'to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.' Don't you think that's enough?" she said, grinning at me. For some reason, the whole class laughed at her comment. I didn't really think it was that funny. Yeah, I know, I used to "like her" like her, but after so many "Arnold, I don't like you like you, I just like you," conversations, and our fallout a little while ago, somehow I realized Lila wasn't all she was cracked up to be. She didn't seem to mind that I didn't really like her anymore.

"Order, order in the court!" our judge, Phoebe, shouted over the classroom, banging the gavel on the podium where she stood. Phoebe was an unlikely candidate for a judge, but I must admit she did a really good job. By now, she made an indentation in the podium.

Mr. Simmons spoke up. "Um, Phoebe, I really appreciate you finding such a unique method of restoring order in the classroom, but would you mind…um…being a little _easier _on the podium. We have to return that to the stage after we're done," Mr. Simmons spoke up. His role in this project was basically to sit back and watch everything happen, but he did step in once in a while.

"Oh, sorry Mr. Simmons," Phoebe said, smiling sheepishly and putting down the gavel softly. She then turned back to the court, consisting of witnesses and the jury. "Let me remind you that if anyone in this court is to disrupt the proceedings, I have the authority to remove you from this courtroom. Do I make myself clear?" Phoebe edged, eyeing everyone in the court. Everyone immediately fell silent. "Excellent. Arnold, proceed with your questioning," Phoebe said, leaning back in the chair, smoothing out her black robe.

I turned back at Lila, and she winked at me. I groaned and then continued. "Lila, where were you on the evening of Wednesday the 19th?" I asked, hoping to assert my point.

"Well Arnold, I believe I've answered that question already, unless you were daydreaming again," she teased playfully. The courtroom began to fill with snickers, before Judge Phoebe glared at them, and silence was restored.

"Lila, just answer the question," she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Lila widened her eyes a little and then continued. "Oh, sorry Judge Phoebe, ever so much." I rolled my eyes. Somehow, that whole 'ever so much' thing was starting to really get on my nerves. Yeah, I know it would get on your nerves, too. "I do believe I said that I was just leaving Nadine's house, where Rhonda, she and I had spent just an ever so delighting day shopping…"

"That's nice," I interrupted. "Anyway, describe to me what you saw," I asked, hoping to get my main defense in with her eyewitness accounts. I noticed she glanced back at Helga before she continued. "I saw Harold Berman coming out of the supermarket near Nadine's house, carrying a sack of some sort."

"What!" I was shocked. This was not supposed to be her defense at all…she was supposed to say that it was so dark, no one could tell who it was, and that the figure did not actually look like the defendant. I know, because that is what the case said. "Lila, you're supposed to say that the figure didn't look like Harold, that you couldn't tell in the dark…"

"Objection!" Helga exclaimed from behind me. I turned back to look at her, and she was smiling that smile I was so used to---that devilish smile. The same one she wore when she was dressed in all black, sabotaging the carriage that Lila and her sister Olga were riding on. I swear I've seen it so many times before. Helga doesn't know that I know she plots, like, all the time, but I do. "The defense is attempting to lead the witness," she declared, folding her arms together.

Phoebe adjusted her glasses. "Objection sustained."

"Wait a minute…Mr. Simmons!" I called out. This was not fair. Everyone else played by the books, but Lila just went and ruined it. She looked at me, flushing slightly, I know, and giggled. I turned away from her so that I would not get too upset.

Mr. Simmons stood up. "Actually, Arnold, the case story didn't clearly say that Denise, the one who Lila is portraying, actually didn't see the defendant. It was actually the attorney that made her realize that all she had seen was a dark figure," Mr. Simmons clarified. "Therefore, Arnold, it is up to you to prove that."

"And you're not, because I know what I saw," Lila confirmed stubbornly. "I saw Harold Berman coming out of the supermarket, and there was enough light for me to recognize him, and it was definitely him, I'm ever so sure," she stated flatly, all of a sudden serious.

I grunted. I had a feeling now, more than ever, that Lila had it out for me ever since I broke up with her months and months ago. I used to regret it, but somehow I no longer do. "No further questions, your Honor," I said, not looking back at Lila and returning to my seat next to Harold, the defendant.

"Lila, you may take your seat," Phoebe said, smirking as Lila left the witness stand. Apparently, Phoebe too thought the whole thing was slightly humorous, seeing as how I had just hopelessly lost my case.

I could here chuckling in the background, and I recognized it. It was Helga's. "Hey _Arnold_, maybe if you'd actually stay awake during court proceedings, you wouldn't lose so miserably," she sneered, and then rolled her eyes at me. This time, she was right. I know the case was as good as gone, and once again, Helga Pataki had won.

"Would the defense like to call any more witnesses?" Phoebe inquired.

"The defense rests, your Honor," I said indirectly, gathering my papers and putting them back in the file.

Harold's eyes widened. "Does that mean we get to leave, Arnold?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "No Harold. We still have closing statements, jury deliberation and the verdict to go," I said, realizing that this case would actually take longer than I originally thought.

Phoebe, at the podium, nodded her head. "Very well, then. Will the prosecution proceed, then, with closing arguments," Phoebe said, clasping her hands together. Helga then rose from her seat; her eyes closed in self-assuredness. She held her hand out to Brainy, her assistant, who handed her a closing statement, which she had formally written while I "questioned" Lila. She got to the front of the courtroom and stood for a while, silent to give an effect.

"As a representative of the state prosecution, I would like to reassert our position. We are here to restore justice to our streets, and to ensure that such petty acts of lawlessness do not occur…again. Therefore, it is our duty to prosecute such wrongdoers as Harold Berman, not only so that he shall not easily roam the streets, wreaking havoc, but also to act as a deterrent to any other of his kind out there that may have the same tendencies. Some of you, members of the fair jury, may feel compelled to defend Harold, as he pitifully claimed his innocence on the witness stand, so pitifully that he forgot he swore to tell the truth. But you must realize, even if your heart compels you to do otherwise, that the state has produced witness upon witness and evidence, to prove the defendant's guilt…"

I listened to her statement for a long time, but then I started thinking again. She was so good, I couldn't believe it. I mean, everyone always assumes that Phoebe is the smartest girl in class. Sure, Phoebe gets all the As and A plusses all the time, but Helga's grades are pretty decent, too, whenever she actually applies herself. Her and Phoebe aren't best friends for no reason…I think their both equally smart, Helga in more ways than one. I then suddenly remembered something I hadn't thought back to in years.

When we were in the first grade, six years old, our classes took a field trip to the public library downtown, and we got our first library cards and were allowed to check out three books at most. Then, we had to share the books we checked out to the class in the kiddy section of the library, with the short chairs. Helga and Phoebe had just started being friends, and Helga was looking over Phoebe's shoulder at her books. Phoebe checked out a junior atlas, the computer version of the "How Does it Work?" series, and a big book of science experiments. That was very predictable. She was explaining something to Helga while the rest of us presented our books to the class.

When it was Helga's turn, she had three big books, or what seemed big at the time. One was a huge poetry anthology that she could hardly carry. When the teacher told her that she probably wanted to check out a little book that she could actually read, Helga protested. I can read it, she said, and she sat down in the middle of the circle and read it to us. Someone who, at the age of six, can read a poem just like that must be smart, really smart.

I feel sorry for Helga, sometimes, overshadowed by her sister Olga. I've been in Helga's house before…Olga's trophies and awards line the walls of the house, and Helga doesn't have so much as a picture on the wall. Just because Helga doesn't have the physical trophies to back up all she knows, I know that Helga is just as smart, if not smarter, than Olga is. I know she must be, because I've seen Helga reading before, and she still reads huge books, just like she did when we were little. Someone like that who watches Court TV and has closing arguments like that must know a lot.

"…And that is why, in closing, Harold Berman is clearly guilty. The state rests, your Honor," Helga closed, snapping her folder shut and returning to her seat. Then, it was my turn to close. Wait, what was that? Okay, you gotta go? Yeah, sure, I can finish telling you about it when you get back. Yeah, I'll speed it up a little.

* * * * * *

After I closed my side of the case, the jury had gone out for deliberation, and meanwhile, the rest of the court had taken a recess. Even though we were recessed, Judge Phoebe insisted that we remain formal in addressing each other. Therefore, Helga did not speak to Phoebe at all during the recess. She did, however, speak to me.

Helga approached me and shook my hand. "Arnold, I just want to congratulate you on the way you professionally conducted yourself in this case," Helga said, in her nothing-but-business tone. I was slightly surprised…Helga, paying me a complement. I knew there was something up with that.

"Um…thanks, Helga," I said hesitantly, as she released my hand. "But, um, aren't congratulations generally given _after_ the whole case is over, you know, when we know who's won?"

Helga laughed abruptly after I said that. "Well, I figured I'd shake hands with you early, since we already know who's won. You know, get the formalities over with now," Helga said, narrowing her eyes at me in that way I had come to hate…but anticipate. "You know, you really tried, Arnold. Maybe put up against any other everyday sap, you would have won your case." Yeah, that was a Helga complement for you. And she walked away again, laughing…but somehow, I didn't feel small after she left. Short, maybe, but not small. Somehow, she's not so intimidating as she was before, when I got to thinking about it.

Maybe its because I know things about Helga that she doesn't know I know. Like, I know she can't be all mean and tough. I mean, I've been in her room, when she caught amnesia that time. I saw dolls, I saw hearts, I saw…girly stuff. No one who's so tough goes around wearing a pink dress with a bow. I know she still reads all the time, because I've bumped into her—-literally—-in the library several times, with an armful of books, and I've seen the authors. Jane Austen, Mary Shelley, Nathaniel Hawthorn, Margaret Mitchell---people I've never heard of but names I've memorized so that one day, I'll look up the books and see why she reads them. And I've heard her slip sometimes, slip into kindness, and then she forces herself back up. She does it all the time.

Before I knew it, the jury was done deliberating…and quite quickly. They returned to the classroom…er, courtroom, and they all had their eyes fixed on me and Harold as they took their seats. Somehow, I knew what to expect, but I still braced myself for the verdict. Stinky, the Bailiff, stood near the classroom door. "All rise, Judge Phoebe Heyerdahl presidin'," Stinky said as Phoebe came from the hallway in her long black robe whose hem swept the floor. She stepped up to the podium and took her seat on the stool.

"You may be seated," she said, and grinned as she heard, like a choir, everyone take their seats. She then looked to the jury. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

I looked back at the jury, headed by Gerald, as he stood to give the verdict. "We have, your Honor." Gerald said, clearing his throat. "We find the defendant, Harold Berman, guilty as charged for one count of petty larceny and two counts of robbery." Immediately after hearing the verdict, I looked over to Helga. Her countenance was apparently stoic, but I did notice she had a slight, smug smirk on her face.

Judge Phoebe nodded, and then stood at her stool. "Very well then," she said, nodding at Gerald who then winked at her. She pretended not to see it. "Harold Berman, you were found by a jury of your peers to be guilty as charged. Therefore, you shall be sentenced…"

"Um, Phoebe, hold on a second," a voice came from behind. It was Mr. Simmons. "Usually, in court cases, the judge takes a little bit more time than a few seconds to come up with the sentencing for the defendant. Sometimes, it takes a few days, maybe even a few weeks, for that decision to be made."

Phoebe flushed slightly when Mr. Simmons said this. "Well, Mr. Simmons, I believe that I have had time in the week that we have been doing this case to formulate a well devised sentence based on the circumstances presented by the prosecution and the details of the defendant's crime…" Phoebe recited nervously.

Helga, who had been laying low for a while, spoke up. "Yeah, Mr. Simmons, and it's not like jury deliberation only takes five minutes in normal circumstances. Crimity, this is a _mock_ trial, not the frickin' Supreme Court! Anyway, the bell's about to ring. Let the judge do sentencing," Helga edged, using the tone I was so familiar with…the tone I had come to expect every day when I met her in class.

"Order in the court!" Phoebe said, banging the gavel as if it were a nervous habit, perhaps a reflex. "Thank you, Ms. Pataki," she said. Mr. Simmons, taken aback by the rejection of his suggestion, sat back down, meekly. "The state hereby sentences Harold Berman to one to two years in Juvenile Detention, and ordered community service afterwards. Case closed." Phoebe said, banging the gavel one last time.

I immediately glanced at Harold after the verdict, and that seemed to perk him up. "What…two years in Juvi! But, but…I didn't do nothin' I swear. Ask my Ma! I was home the whole time!" Harold said, starting to get hysterical.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Harold. They're not actually sending you to Juvenile Halls…it's a mock trial, remember?" While Harold continued to become more and more upset, I glanced at Helga. She and Brainy shook hands civilly, and Helga collected her briefcase and prepared to leave. Gerald stopped her at the door.

"Wait a second, Helga," he said. She turned and wrinkled her nose in her usual fashion, as if she were ready to say, 'What do you want, Geraldo,' but she was hushed when she saw the trophy Gerald had in his hands. "As the President of the Fourth Grade Class of PS118, I present you with this, the honorary Mock Trial Award, issued annually to the student who conducts themselves the most professionally in the fourth grade mock trial. Congratulations, Helga." With that, the class cheered as Helga was handed the trophy. I looked at Helga for her reaction. Her eyes widened a little, but then, as if she felt herself loosing her composure, she narrowed her eyes again in nonchalance and looked at Gerald.

"Well, jeez, I don't know what to say," Helga began, putting the trophy on the desk next to her and looking at her reflection in it. "I guess I have to give thanks where its due," she said, quickly thinking up a speech in her mind. "First of all, I'd like to thank Mr. Simmons, for making this whole mock trial thing possible. Then, I'd like to thank the other fourth grade class for their participation. We can't forget the presiding judge, Phoebe, for her great work. Oh yeah, and all my witnesses for really making the casework. Oh yeah, and we can't forget Arnold, who…" By this time, everyone in the class was ignoring Helga, and she began to get annoyed. "Hey, is anyone out there actually listening?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.

By then, the bell rang, and everyone ran out classroom. Phoebe passed by Helga out of the door. "Hey Phoebs, wait up!"

Phoebe called behind her as she ran. "Sorry Helga, gotta go. I'll meet you outside of the bathroom door!" Helga, thinking she was alone, shrugged and picked up her trophy. I followed her out of the hallway to see her skipping around with the trophy, almost like she was dancing with it. I figured she was really excited.

I quietly walked up behind her. I felt like I really had to tell her what I had been thinking all that day, throughout the case. "Helga…" I began.

This startled her, and she leapt into the air and nearly lost her balance with the trophy in her arms. "What the…oh, it's just you, Football Head." My heart sunk a little, thinking that I was no more to her than an annoying 'football head.' I don't know why, but somehow, I wanted to be more than that. "Yeah well, what do you want. I haven't got all day, you know," she jeered at me, putting her trophy down and putting her hands on her hips. I opened my mouth to speak, but I realized that I didn't have anything to say, really. I didn't know what I wanted to say. My thoughts were jumbled when I thought about her, and I didn't know what to think about it. But she was getting impatient, and I had to say something.

"I just wanted to say…you're really smart, Helga." Helga raised her eyebrow at me, as if to say, 'yeah, and?' I continued. "I think you could be smarter than Phoebe and your sister Olga, but…I don't know, its just so hard to tell, because you're so…hard to figure out sometimes." Helga's eyes widened at this comment, as if she took this into consideration. As I said this, she looked around, as if searching for a rebuttal. When she came up with one, she scowled again.

"So what if you can't figure me out, Football Head. What do I look like to you, a jigsaw puzzle?" she said, flailing her hands around as she spoke. "Maybe I like to keep aloof, Arnold, if that's alright with you. How I act is my choice, and I'm not going to change that to ease what ever troubles you have going through that football shaped brain of yours, got it?" she said, picking up her trophy and walking off. I watched her as she went down the hall and met up with Phoebe emerging from the bathroom. I heard her voice in the distance, 'Yeah Phoebs, wait 'til Big Bob gets a load of this baby. He'll freak!' and then, her voice faded as she went down the stairs to exit the school.

I walked home from school today because I needed time to think, and clear my mind. I realized I had never watched a girl walk away from me before. That was different, especially since it was Helga Pataki. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she really was a puzzle, like one of those where one piece is missing and you have to shift it to get the whole picture. But, its like the one piece missing is essential to getting the whole picture, you know? You don't get it? C'mon, my metaphor makes sense. Well, anyway… She's like a puzzle, a personal enigma that I'll probably never solve. My enigma.

This personalization really got to me. What was I doing? Helga Pataki hated me, why was I thinking so much about her. Gerald's told me many times that I think too much about her. And as the year has gone on, I guess I have. But it's hard to get her off my mind sometimes. After a record topping day of spit balls landed in my hair, after she comes up with a new insult, after she finds a new way to ridicule me…she stays on my mind for a long time. But, I can't explain it. Not at all.

And then there are days when she's kinda nice, like at Rhonda's costume party, or on the last day when she was the It Girl, or during this case. I don't know when to expect this or when to expect the Helga that mocks me. But, there is something about the unpredictability of it all that I've come to expect. I remember one day Helga was absent, and the day just did not feel right…I mean, I had an uneventful day, but it wasn't right. Kind of like when Gerald's absent from school.

I told you that's the only way I know how to explain it, Grandpa. It's like…I don't think she likes me, but if she does, she has a weird way of showing it. Or maybe, she's just Helga. That's the only way I can describe her, Helga. And I mean, she's different from other girls. I mean, I could describe Ruth…I thought Ruth older, wiser and more mature…and then, she just turned out to be shallow. And Lila, she was pretty, smart, funny…and now, I'm comparing Helga Pataki to Lila and Ruth. But she's not like Ruth or Lila. I can't describe her with one word…she's so much more than that.

And I don't know why I'm talking like this, I don't know what this fascination is called. I had a crush on Ruth, I like liked Lila…but that's now how I feel about Helga. What do you think, Grandpa…you have no idea? That's nice. Well, I don't know either, and its hard to say. She's like no one I've ever met, and I don't think I'd change her. Grandpa, do I like Helga? Do I really?

I think I like her.


End file.
